BLADE:The Blood Gauntlet
by C. William Russette
Summary: Vampire hunter Blade stops in Philadelphia to deal with a threat unlike any he has faced before. His skill and resolve will be tested to their utmost.
1. Chapter 1

BLADE

in

THE BLOOD GAUNTLET

By C. William Russette

PROLOGUE

_Tome of Sorcerer Supreme: Strange, Stephan_

_I had little choice in making my departure from The Avengers, this dimension's primary team of heroes. Only so much time can be allotted away from my duties as the Sorcerer Supreme. Some matters of the Prime Material Plane require my complete attention. Such was the case in Philadelphia._

_The matter of the dimensional rift was being dealt with by the city's sole superhuman protector: Nomad. I had given him my word that I would watch over his city while he was away and I am a man that likes to keep his word._

_While observing the city that rarely shows up on the metahuman malevolence meter I find there is much here that requires my attention. Nothing on the scale that I as Keeper of the Realm would normally involve myself in, but where there is suffering of the innocent from the malefactor, so must I intervene._

_It was a matter that Nomad might have been able to handle were he still in this dimension but I knew that another, more suited to the work at hand, was en route to Philadelphia. In truth he might not have come _directly_ through the city but when introduced to the scent of his prey, in part due to some simple magics, the substitute would feel compelled to visit the City of Brotherly Love._

_My body occupied a magically shielded penthouse at the Four Seasons while my astral form followed the newly arrived on his motorcycle through the streets. Such a tragic history the man has had. One that I have manipulated in the past, were I to be honest with myself. The greater good must be served. I didn't alter that which drives him this time, I merely focused his already heightened senses. This was the first link in the chain that the _hunter_ would follow to it's dark master. The road ahead would not be a pleasant one but it wasn't anything he_ _hadn't dealt with before._

_He drove through the impoverish streets of Northern Philadelphia until he arrived at his mark. Other matters demanded my immediate attention or I would have enjoyed watching the driven man at his work. I had my word to keep. There are affairs other than those mystic that required my touch._

_Take care, hunter._

END PROLOGUE

The hunter stood beside his jet black Daytona T595 and sniffed the air. The prey's close, he thought. The final blood-choked words of Zeke the scumbag vampire was that there was going to be a gathering of his kind in Harrisburg soon. It seemed like a good city to set up camp in for now. You follow the infestations, wipe them out and move on to the next hive of blood-suckers.

Such a goal as killing each and every vampire on the planet was an impossible task, the hunter knew, but far too few people were on his side of the war. Too busy playin' super-hero while the little man gets bled out, one by one. That was the fight, one night at a time, one dead sucker at a time. People were being saved. Vampires were being put down. That was the mission.

The hunter checked his weapon's rigging under his leather trench coat. Set. Traffic? The nearest street was quiet. Minimal. The alley only a few feet away from him wasn't one vehicles generally used gauging by the amount of refuse spinning around in the miniature twisters. It was below-freezing tonight. Strange that I caught this scent from the highway, he thought. His senses were inhumanly acute when it came to tracking the prey but such long range recognition was unheard of. How he picked up the scent wasn't of paramount importance. Making his mark in the undead underworld of Philadelphia was.

The hunter peeked around the aging brick wall into the alley where shadows played upon shadows and all would be invisible save for one who could see in the dark. Three bodies. One, with a fast dropping body temp, lay on the trash laden asphalt. Two standing. A living adult female in the clutches of a vampire. The woman was dressed like so many underground, vampire posers of Seattle. Torn fishnet stockings, leather mini skirt and little more despite the freezing weather. The hunter could see the aura of the vampire slowly increasing in brilliance and color as he fed on the female. He moved ten paces into the alley.

"Drop the woman."

The vampire, a long haired blonde male, whose fashion was stranded in the 80's metal movement turned his yellow-red eyes on the hunter. He didn't stop feeding at first. The hunter stepped forward and the vampire released his prey. She stumbled against the alley wall.

"What the hell do you want?" the vampire asked.

"What do you think I want, vampire?" the hunter said and launched a silver throwing knife.

The vampire side-stepped and swatted the projectile aside sending it into the brick wall a foot from his dazed prey.

"Who the hell are _you_, man?" the vampire asked, drawing a twelve inch hunting knife from behind his back.

The hunter tilted his head. _Is he kidding? Are there pockets of blood drinkers that haven't heard of me? _The hunter drew his silver longsword from the inside of his leather coat and ran for the prey.

Incredibly, the vampire ran to meet the hunter fearlessly. Sword clashed with knife in a rapid five strike sequence leaving neither combatant injured. The hunter stepped into a seven strike series of kicks and slashes that the vampire blocked and parried save the last that cost him his right eye.

"Bastard!" the vampire barked and began his attack volley.

The vampire was better than most the hunter had faced in a near century of elimination. Like many martial artists with egos once they had enough wins under their belt they simply stopped studying, assuming that they were never going to need to be _that_ good. The undead had an additional disadvantage of being slow learners after the change. The hunter analyzed his prey's ability level and stepped into his rhythm. After a thrust of his sword through the vampire's heart and a follow up slash, the foe was decapitated. The prey burst into ash and merged with the swirling trash twisters.

"The name's Blade, sucker," the hunter said.

Detecting movement behind him he spun to see the formerly dazed, female victim charging toward him with hell's fury in her eyes and his silver knife in her hand. Blade barely had time to register the image as she drove the silver coated knife into the side of his head.

"You psycho! What have you done to Johnny!" she shrieked as Blade's world shot into blinding light and quickly faded to black.

Hodge advanced on the inattentive master, carrying his two short swords. The seven other students milled about the practice floor of the refurbished gymnasium. Some sparred bare fisted, others with an assortment of weapons. What each carried depended on what the master had decided was their strongest tool. Shaman Gibson, the Baron's second in command, had all of the master's attention. Everyone else was too enthralled in their practice to possibly guess Hodge's intent. The master would die for the humiliation of last night, Hodge thought.

Having spent an entire decade training and sweating blood, eating pavement to perfect his weapons of choice, Hodge had decided it was time for the final test. The only true testing of his skills since he agreed to bow to the Baron in all ways fifty years ago. The result of the match would determine if Hodge was ready to start his own crew and stake out a city of his own. He was ready. Even Gibson had told him so.

The rest of Hodge's generation had graduated and moved on to high fame and fortune. It was _time_.

Hodge had made the request amidst the circle of the senior pupils as was proper. Baron Changadai refused the match. Hodge wasn't ready, he claimed. Some nonsense about humility and controlling his anger. _It was insulting. _He was senior student, he followed the doctrines and made all the sacrifices. Hodge immediately decided that the refusal of the match was an affront and stepped into the center of the circle.

"I call the entreaty of blood, Baron," Hodge had said. It was a once in a lifetime request that a student of the blood could ask of his maker. It had to be granted or the master would lose a great amount of face.

"Reconsider, pupil. If you fail in your challenge against me, you may not ask for another decade. You are very close to being ready for the pilgrimage. Show patience," Changadai had said.

"I have shown patience, master. What's your answer?" Hodge felt his fangs begins to extend on their own.

"I take no joy in granting your entreaty," Changadai said and entered the circle. He drew his curved longsword, an ancient Chinese beidao.

Hodge bowed his head low and was answered with a nod from Baron Changadai as was proper. Hodge drew on the power flowing within his blood, enhancing his body to speeds the human eye could barely track. Still, the fight was considered to have taken a long time, almost thirty seconds. Dozens of strikes and slashes were redirected and blocked. Changadai's defense was perfect, Hodge realized and his hopes began to drop. To lose was to be reduced to senior sifu for yet another ten years. Hodge drove forward, fueled with his anger. Each time Hodge thought he had the advantage he found another slice of his flesh sailing through the air. After the tenth such slicing, Hodge had had enough and poured all his rage into a charge. Changadai's steel flashed in front of his eyes and his face registered pain.

Students cringed when they looked at Hodge. He dashed backward finding a hole where his nose once was. The nose lay a few steps away from Baron Changadai who neither smirked nor looked remorseful. That was the final insult. To literally take Hodge's face took all precepts of humanity from the vampire. Hodge charged with his swords at the ready. Changadai stepped forward into the opening Hodge's wide attack posture allowed and extended his arm. Hodge impaled himself on the sword and stopped immediately. The Baron hadn't impaled his heart. Hodge could still win!

Baron Changadai made a slight flick of his wrist and the heart of Hodge was severed though it remained in place. Hodge frowned, foamed and collapsed.

"Aid Hodge into his room." Changadai accepted a silk cloth from another student and cleaned off his beidao.

The humiliation of being carted off by inferior, younger students after being defaced was a shame beyond anything Hodge could fathom. With nothing to feed on, confined to his chamber, it had taken much of his own stores to remake the flesh that was removed or severed. The mending took three nights under an almost coma-like meditative state.

Tonight, immediately after dusk, Hodge had finally left his room and hunted under the night's sky. The four college girls that he had torn to pieces mere hours ago hadn't known what hit them. Broken laws and oaths be damned, Hodge thought, drawing closer to his master.

Now, well fed and completely healed, forcing all his energy into his undead muscles, Hodge charged with greater speed than he had ever before mustered. He was at Changadai's back in less than a blink and his swords were in motion. Where there should have been a decapitated Changadai stood only the face of a stoic master. His sword was somehow now in his hand.

"You have failed on so many levels, Hodge," Changadai said.

Hodge felt the wind and the pain beginning to grow in both his forearms. Changadai glanced at the floor between them at Hodge's severed hands still holding his swords. Shaman Gibson stood to Hodge's immediate right, sword in hand, the blade color a dark red.

A glint of metal and Hodge's insides spilled out onto the stone floor. He tried to stem the falling flesh but he had no hands to catch with. A second flash and Hodge watched as the world tumbled over and over. It was almost comical, Hodge thought and expired.

"Clean this up and leave it on the roof for the sun," Master Changadai said frowning. "I will be in my chambers, Gibson. See that I am no--"

"Changadai! Baron Changadai!" Yvette shouted as he she shoved her way through the troop of vampires.

"Yes, child? Calm yourself."

"I can't. A vampire slayer killed Johnny!" she shrieked.

"Are you certain? Johnny is an astute fighter." Changadai arched a brow.

"Yes, Baron. He was cut down, very quickly. He-- Johnny an I, we were..."

"You gave of yourself, go on."

"And this guy with a sword just showed up out of no where. And he... he..." Yvette covered her face as bloody tears washed the make up off her face.

"Did he give his name? This man?" Changadai asked.

"He said his name was Blade, acted like we shoulda known him. I staked him in the head." Yvette wiped her nose on her sleeve before continuing, "Blade's dead."

"You killed the slayer?" Gibson asked from behind Yvette.

"_Hey, man, get up, you ain't dead," _a voice met Blade's consciousness.

Where am I, Blade wondered. _Somewhere hard, on the ground... pavement_. He knocked away the stones embedded in the side of his face._ There was a fight... a vampire. There was a vampire killing a young girl. I stopped him. _Pain lanced through his head faded to a weaker but quite tangible pulse. _That bitch hit me in the head._

"_Come on, man. Get up, I dunno how much time I got and you gotta save my girl," _the annoying voice said, closer this time.

Blade tried to make a fist. The message was slow to get a reaction. The sharp, blazing pain the back of his skull was anything but.

"_Crap! I saw that. man! I knew you was alive! Come on, get moving! Time's a wastin'."_

Blade rolled over onto one side and slapped his palm to the ground then eased the other hand beneath his body getting into the push-up position. From the waist down he felt shaky. Definitely not the best time to hit the streets, Blade thought.

"_Come on, come on. You can do it, Blade," _the irritating voice ran on.

Blade finally got to his feet and stumbled as he tried to maintain his equilibrium. He bounced his head off the unforgiving brick of the alley wall. His skull ached from a second direction.

"_Dude, watch yer head. You gotta be careful, man." _

Blade leaned against the wall and faced the voice that was far too interested in his well being. His eyes perceived little more than a fog some ten feet away. He switched out of his night vision and beheld something he had rarely seen through the years of hunting the undead.

A man, the left side of his head deformed, as from a serious and likely lethal blow, stood over Blade's longsword. The ethereal and ashen remains appeared in jeans and a tee shirt. Blade saw the man as well as the traffic that passed on the street behind him. The man's outline was out of focus but only just. The thing's general attire matched that of the dead male in the alley before him.

"What do you care bout my head, wraith?" Blade asked.

"_Well, if you'd fallen the other way... it might have been driven in further," _the wraith said.

Blade was about ask what the freak was running his mouth about when his right hand sought the right side of his shaved head. Something was sticking out of it. Blade realized it was one of his own silver coated stakes. Snarling, he gripped it and tore it free easily. Blade stumbled and just managed to remaing standing.

"_Geez, you got stones, man. I know that hurt," _the wraith said covering his mouth.

"Why are you here?" Blade asked and immediately wished he hadn't. The more important question was why could Blade see the wraith? It wasn't something he had ever been able to do in the past. He looked down at the red-tipped, silver stake. _Lucky that bitch didn't drive it any deeper. My healing might not have been able to hold me together._

_Still, there's the matter of the pain in the ass wraith. He's got to serve some purpose. Why else would he have been put in my path? _

"_Yer not even listening to me, are you?"_

"I don't got time to listen to whining ghosts. Lay it out straight or hit the road, Casper." Blade retrieved and sheathed his sword.

"_I told you, that damn vampire freak used his mojo on my girlfriend and she's his slave now. I finally found her and confronted him."_

"Gettin' in a vampire's face. That's bright."

"_I didn't know he was a vampire for Christ's sake." _

Blade headed for the mouth of the alley. The wraith coasted more than ran through the air until he reached his corpse.

"_Look at what he did to me! I'm dead now! I'm dead for trying to rescue my girl! Don't you care?"_

Blade stopped. His head tilted slightly to better view the body. He cracked his neck and turned back to his motorcycle.

"_You're a vampire hunter, right? Aren't you supposed to go avenge me or something?" _the wraith wailed.

"You got me confused with the tights and capes crowd. I kill vampires. Your vampire is dead."

"_Your work ain't done here! You gotta save Yvette, man!"_

Blade mounted his ride and fired it up.

"_There--there's more of them!"_

Blade turned to the wraith.

"_Ya, man. That dude Johnny, he ran with a crew. There's at least four, maybe six more of them."_

"You better not be playin' me. There's sufferin' left for you yet, wraith."

"_The gang leader, they call him the Baron."_

_Blade. _

_Quite possibly the world's most famous vampire hunter. If the word is true he has even slain the great Dracula more than once. As impossible as that sounds every couple of years we hear the same rumor. Dracula, the greatest of us from the modern age, escaped the grave once more. Months or sometimes years later, we hear the great one had fallen to Blade's teak daggers. What mortal in his right mind would attack one of the night-bound with a wooden knife? Yet the tales of undead falling under this Daywalker's sword grows year after year after year._

_Why haven't any of us ended this threat? Granted, many of my brethren are little more than empowered teenagers allowing their lust and cravings to rule them. Drunk on power, untrained, few would be a match for the obsessed Blade. What of the likes of Dracula? Certainly no fool and even he has fallen. _

Baron Changadai turned and faced the guardians of his barony. Two less now, he thought, saddened. Johnny now swims the Styx with our ancestors. Blade will not quit if he thinks there are more of us residing in my city. Will he seek vengeance on Yvette? He must know she's not one of mine. She couldn't possibly have killed him. Not when so many, so much stronger than she, have failed.

_I must assume Blade yet lives. To assume is a dangerous thing. I thought that because he had yet to visit my city perhaps he hadn't heard of us. None of my barony kill their prey. None reproduce without my leave. There is no threat to humanity here. Indeed, some, like Yvette, gladly give of themselves to the master predators. The majority feast upon on the criminal element. We provide a service for what we take! This is the ideal he seeks to disrupt! Humans and vampires existing side by side._

_Of course there are instances when a member gets carried away and some purse snatcher dies but of whose concern is that? Blade's? _How dare he question my will. _He knows _nothing_ of the work and blood I've put into building my barony. _

_Do we hide? Should we slink away into the shadows until some greater vampires draws the Daywalker's attention? _Baron Changadai noticed his grip tightening on his sword-handle.

"Baron? We are yours to command. What is to be done about the slayer?" Shaman Gibson asked, bowing slightly.

"Blade dies." Philadelphia's Baron of Blood frowned. " Before the sun rises."

_**To be continued...**_


	2. Chapter 2

BLADE

in

THE BLOOD GAUNTLET

Part II

By C. William Russette

"How long was I out?" Blade asked.

"_Geez, I dunno. An hour?"_ the wraith said.

"Damn it!" Blade scanned his surroundings. The wind shifted the alley debris on and around the hunter. Traffic on the nearby street had picked up. The sky had drawn it's curtain across the stars.

It's gonna snow soon, Blade thought. _Sounds good. Makes it easier for me to track. Unless I'm already being tracked by the prey. The vampires have had an hour. Even now word was tearing through the channels of the vampire community. A predator, higher on the food chain than the undead, had arrived in Philly. _

"_What are you gonna do, man?" _

"What's your name?" Blade searched the rooftops on either side of the alley.

"_Al."_

"Al, shut your hole." Blade sampled the air a final time and leapt two stories to the nearest rooftop.

Blade had no sooner touched down when projectiles ripped through the air towards him. There wasn't time to draw his sword or anything else. Blade focused his agility and the speed of the beast that was his birthright. He examined the pattern of the throwing stars, so perfectly aimed and cutting through the chilled Philadelphia air.

Six shuriken. A pause. Six more. Blade risked a half second to backtrack the inbound weapons so as to lock in on their source. The being's aura told him the enemy was a vampire, no human could throw that fast, that accurately. Blade was surprised at the attacker's appearance. The vampire, by human standards, looked perhaps ten years of age. Appearances meant nothing. The creature could be centuries old. Snapping back into play, Blade began his dance amongst the spinning steel. The first dozen blades were launched on the assumption that Blade would remain still.

_Doesn't_ anyone _know me here?_ I shoulda hit Philly years ago, Blade thought and jumped into a high forward roll. A dozen stars disappeared in the freezing night. There was no time to worry about bystanders behind him. _There shouldn't be anyone on their rooftops in this weather, but it takes all kinds._ Blade began his descent. The vampire tilted his head and squinted. _That's right, sucker, I'm more than human._ Steel flew free from the stationary assailant. It took the vampire a half second to realize the first and second volley had failed.

Blade drew his longsword.

A third spread of shuriken met the descending hunter's dipping and slicing sword. Sparks fired up around Blade as he spun, deflecting the projectiles. The longsword cut swift and furious but the child-vampire avoided each strike.

KLAK.

A medieval mace appeared in the vampire's hand blocking what would have been a decapitating strike. Blade stepped back, let the vampire advance, then dashed forward catching his enemy off guard. The vampire ducked Blade's sword and drove a shuriken into the Daywalker's knee. Blade landed a punch to the throat. The vampire stumbled backward, recovered and leaped into the air.

"Stupid," Blade said, drew and fired his over and under shotgun. The incendiary rounds blew the runt-vampire's head to moist, red gore. Little more than smoldering ash hit the rooftop.

Blade grunted as he removed the shuriken from his knee. It would heal soon enough. _Who the hell was kid-evil though? A friend of the sucker down in the alley? _

"Not very sporting, Blade," a voice said.

A female vampire stood on the far edge of the roof. She wore jeans and winter leather boots. Her brown, suede jacket bore the stains from years of bloodletting.

"It's been a bad night for the young one. He lost his mentor."

"Ain't all he lost." Blade faced the woman.

"I am Nemeth. He was going to be my protege after we finished with you. You see, I lost someone tonight too." Nemeth wore a quiver on her hip and carried a black, lacquered, Japanese long bow almost as tall as it's wielder.

"Shuriken and arrows. What is this? Drop to your knees and I'll end this quick." Blade eased into an attack posture, sword at the ready.

"You killed my Johnny, and now Ritter. With _a gun _no less and you expect me to bow to you? What balls."

Blade forced a smile and discharged his shotgun but Nemeth was gone, moving, fast. Pain registered in Blade's shoulder, hip and left hand simultaneously. The shotgun fell free. He scanned for his attacker but immediately knew he should have moved instead. Two more arrows lodged in his back and abdomen. Blade's sword went into a spinning defense that cut down two arrows but a third struck his neck. Nemeth raced along the outer edge of the roof discharging arrows with the ease of one standing still. It was an act that would have drawn applauding throngs.

Pain shouted as another arrow struck Blade's leg even as he cut two more from the air. Honing his hearing to its utmost, the hunter spun, tracking the speeding archer. Blade caught the final arrow inches from his heart.

"I'm impressed, Blade. Only seven hit." Nemeth stepped off the ledge laying her bow to rest.

Blade eased the arrow out of his neck. Had it struck any closer to his carotid artery the fight would have already ended. He eased the arrow from his left wrist. This one will suffer, he vowed.

"You seem awfully upset, murderer. You shot Ritter from the sky in a _melee_ trial. Be thankful I only brought the one quiver."

_Who in the hell were these creatures? _In the many years of his hunting the children of the night Blade had fought every imaginable species of vampire. On a very rare occasion one might have spent their near endless nights mastering martial pursuits. Most thrived on the carnal exploits so common to the breed. In his first night in Philadelphia Blade had encountered a shuriken throwing, mace-wielder and as fine an archer as any he had ever encountered, dead or alive. The Avenger Hawkeye alone might give her a hard time with a bow. Was the vampire he destroyed first in the alley some kind of specialist too? He hadn't had time to draw anything more than a knife.

"Hurry, murderer, heal up. I've got vengeance on my mind," Nemeth said, pacing.

The last arrowhead ground against his shin-bone as Blade tore it free. Nemeth drew the short sword from over her shoulder. Blade had seen a picture of it when still under his first master's tutelage. Jamal Afari, a jazz trumpeter and vampire hunter, brought Blade in off the street. Afari forced Blade to master many edged weapons. The one Nemeth wielded was a brilliant replica of a 15th century Italian cinquedea. Named after the five finger width of the blade at the haft, it came to an almost round tip. It would likely bring a fair price if Blade survived the night.

"I would have simply cut you down for your misdeeds against my people but the Baron insists we maintain our honor in the face of _any_ diversity." She set her jaw and approached Blade.

"Vampire honor? Gimmie a break." Blade almost laughed. He was using every ounce of his will to seal his injures if even superficially. The hunter hoped that Nemeth's strong weapon was the bow.

She thrust the cinquedea forward but Blade saw the attack for the feint that it was. Her weapon was one for hacking, not driving through and opponent. If she were human that is, Blade corrected himself. A vampire could likely drive such a weapon through an armored opponent. The hunter knocked the haft-heavy blade down and cut for her throat but she bent over backwards and smashed a thick-soled boot into Blade's face.

Blade spun with the impact and brought his own sword up in time to save his left arm from being severed. His modified longsword wasn't the equal in thickness of Nemeth's sword. Blocking would have to be replaced with parrying, he decided and began his attack sequence. _I should have brought the katanas._

Nemeth was clearly professionally trained. She easily fell into a rhythm with Blade, matching every step and burst of aggression. Her arrogance became apparent when Blade's injured leg quivered and almost failed him. Nemeth moved in, calling on her vampire speed. Blade played up his exhaustion and injury level. She pressed him and he stumbled to one knee, panting. Nemeth wasting no time, gripped her ancient weapon with both hands and baring a fangs slashed down with all her strength.

Blade brought up the longsword to block but was overpowered. Nemeth muscled past the hunter's weapon, hacking deep into Blade's left shoulder. She stepped back and dragged her cinquedea across the side of his neck. The pain was greater than Blade had expected. His left arm was now useless.

"Now, murderer..." Nemeth began and stumbled back a step.

Blade pointed to her chest and stood. A dagger protruded from beneath her left breast, a teak dagger. Nemeth began a final charge at Blade. All that reached the vampire hunter was an ashen sword that clattered across the roof top to Blade's feet.

"_That was amazing! I didn't even see you stick that bitch!"_ Al the wraith wailed.

Neither did she, Blade thought. He tried to move his left arm. Fingers twitched, pain flared. There weren't any grinding bones. It shouldn't take too long to heal. His sword had taken the worst of the blow. He was lucky he still had the arm. The feint was a risky move but with all the arrow holes tearing themselves open as the fighting progressed, Blade knew his options were disappearing quickly.

"_What's that, three down? You are_ the man!" Al said.

Blade grimaced as he held his arm in place willing the binding to hasten. His body would heal on its own but coupled with meditation and a driven will Blade found that he could speed it up. Taxing as the exertion was, worse was how feral it left him. Fortunately, the only one around was already dead.

"How'd you get up here anyway?"

"_Uh, I just kinda climbed the wall. I guess I don't weigh all that much. Just took some serious thinking and I sailed on up here. You gonna be okay, Blade? You look like hell."_

Yeah, probably, Blade thought. I'd be better with a few pints of blood and a whiskey chaser but that ain't gonna happen. Blade sampled the air. The ghost registered but barely. He could locate the remains of all three recent kills. No big effort there. They shared a common scent beneath or attached to their own. She came from the north, Blade reasoned as he inhaled the slight, chilled wind. Nemeth wasn't the last of them.

Blade forced his left arm into action, making a fist. His shoulder felt submerged in acid but everything was connected again. _Good thing it wasn't my sword arm_. Blade examined his sword. Near the haft, where the blade connected with it, his sword was chipped a third of the way through. In a couple of strikes the blade would break off.

The cinquedea lay on the ground. It seemed an ungainly weapon but he knew his own wasn't going to be good for much. Blade sheathed his longsword. Another for the wall, he thought heading to the edge of the roof. With a grunt he knelt and rotated his head.

"_Blade?"_

Only the wind replied to the wraith.

"_Blade? What are you doin?"_

"Tryin' not to bleed." Blade pinched the bridge of his nose.

"_I hate to break it to you but there's more of them out there."_

"I know."

"_My girl is with them, m--What did you say?"_

"There's maybe two more up the block, on the roof of the pawn shop. Been there watchin' the whole time." Blade rotated his left shoulder and moaned.

"_So what are you waiting for? Get it in gear, man!"_

_If there was a way to shut your hole, punk I'd be all over that. Never had a whole lot of experience with ghosts though. Not even too sure why I can see and or hear this one. Gotta have somethin' to do with the blow to the head I took._ Blade got to his feet, slowly.

_Problem is I don't know how to ditch a ghost I can't cut down._

"_Just go slow so I can keep up. Movin' ain't so easy like this."_

Blade took the cinquedea in a reverse grip and ran. The wraith screamed about something but Blade hadn't the time or energy to bother listening. Getting his heart racing sped up the blood flow and healing factor. It Hurt like being dragged through broken glass but the results were hard to argue with.

The roof opposite was almost the same height and easily reached. _Follow that, dead Al._ Blade didn't bother to turn and watch the moaning ghost. He hoped it would be awhile until Al learned the abilities of his new state of being.

The undead heat signatures of the two vampires were missing. Blade knew that he hadn't imagined them. The hunter had never encountered a vampire whose trail he couldn't track.

The four-way intersection ahead would be a problem. Blade knew that he couldn't leap the distance at peak performance, never mind while knitting himself together. It was time to jump into the spotlight.

Blade leapt off the two story building into the bed of a Ford full-sized pick up. The driver, blue collar, thirty-something male, spun around in his seat but the traffic was moving. There wasn't anything for him to do until he could make a turn. Blade ignored the other drivers staring at the amazing leaping man. The truck had weaved into the right hand lane when a glint caught Blade's eye.

The vampire-hunter's instincts took over and Blade jumped up, flipped forward and landed on the roof of Hummer motoring past in the center lane. Blade turned to see a throwing knife clatter around the bed of the truck. Obscured by shadow on the roofline to Blade's left, a form reached back over his head for an impossible fifty foot throw. Blade brought up the cinquedea and swatted the second knife into a wooden telephone pole. Blade was moving away from the mark. The thrower knew better than to waste another knife at the increasing distance. He looked around for the next chance to hop vehicles and change lanes. He turned to inspect oncoming traffic when the streetlights were almost eclipsed by a massive male form wielding a war hammer.

_Thor?_

Blade dashed backward to the edge of Hummer's cab as the long handled war hammer tore through the steel shell of the recreational wartime vehicle like it was made of tin. The giant of a man, similar to Thor in only build and weapon of choice, tore the bludgeoning weapon free with ease. The vampire stood to it's full seven foot plus height, every inch of the monster thick with tightly corded muscle. He had to be four hundred pounds of leather, chain and hair, Blade guessed. The giant wouldn't allow any further analysis. He brought the hammer down again.

The giant looked shocked as Blade charged under the crashing blow and hacked the cinquedea into the giant's rib cage. The resulting snapping was pleasing. Blade dashed away from the expected backhand, turned and again ran straight for the large vampire. The monster reached for Blade but too slowly. The hunter leapt up onto the giant's shoulder springing up and away.

The jump was an easy, forty feet, but Blade's body wasn't what it should have been. He used the wrong leg to spring off with, suffering through the jump onto the semi following the Hummer. Blade felt his right leg strain, quiver but finally hold the landing.

Blade tracked a glimmer of metal again. He brought his sword up, deflecting it with no time to spare. Blade realized, too late, the throwing knife was a feint. A spiked ball on the end of a chain crashed into the Daywalker's face knocking him off the side of the trailer.

Blade gripped the edge of the trailer's roof. His left arm felt like it was going to come off. The chain-wielder shrieked what might be considered laughter. Blade swung his right arm up and stabbed a hold with the cinquedea. The ease in pressure on his left arm felt just short of orgasmic. Oncoming traffic tore past. Blade listened as the sound of the jangling chain stopped. Blade's left hand fell from the trailer. Two spiked, steel balls on the end of chains embedded themselves where his hand had been. The owner pulled the lengthy weapon taught. Blade gripped the chain, held fast then pulled himself up and onto the trailer top.

Blade maintained his grip on the ball and chain whip while tearing free his cinquedea. The owner of the whip was a vamp. She was taller than Blade though not so tall as the Viking from the Hummer. Her brow was distended, sprouting monstrous eyebrows over deep set, small eyes that were black as the night sky. She was heavily muscled with teeth that surpassed the category of fangs, more akin to tusks.

She snapped the chain-whip from Blade's hand, he didn't resist. The spiked balls flew free again. Blade ducked the first and parried the second. It wasn't a whip the vampire bore but a hideous form of the Japanese manriki-gusari: a length of chain with a weight on each end. Normally the ends weren't edged or spiked. Clearly bludgeoning her enemy wasn't enough for the vamp.

The muscle bound female began her strike sequence, the chain spinning and arcing around herself and lancing out at Blade. The hunter's blade lashed out, he ducked and sidestepped the vamp and her weapon. His left shoulder began to howl again. She hadn't landed a strike since ripping his face open but Blade knew that he wouldn't be able to keep this pace up indefinitely. The manriki-gusari was a long range weapon, unlike his sword. Even a thrown weapon would likely be cast aside. There was only one option. It was the most dangerous. Blade closed the distance.

Marking the pattern, erratic as it was, she was a master of the weapon, Blade struck with his sword. The chain wrapped around the cinquedea and jerked tight but Blade held firm. The remainder of the chain finished it's arc and Blade allowed it wrap around his left arm, the spiked ball crashing into his forearm, numbing it. The vampire grinned a hideous smirk and fired a snap kick to Blade's trunk. He tightened his abs to absorb the worst of it and drove his chain-wrapped forearm into her face dashing blood and sending fangs bouncing off the trailer into oncoming traffic.

The vampire screamed and Blade broke his sword arm free from her grip. He brought his sword back for the killing strike and pain erupted from his right elbow. Blade watched the cinquedea fly from his useless hand. Before he could turn, a second blow struck his upper back sending him tumbling to the end of the trailer. He was certain vertebrate between his shoulder blades were shattered. Drawing a breath was impossible.

Blade looked to the front of the trailer. The giant Viking stood beside his partner with the ruined maw. The undead shared a bloodied grin, turned to Blade and started towards him.

Blade's limbs tingled but refused to obey.

_**to be continued...**_


End file.
